Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from New Zealand and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing The Martian to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All EPMD tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every It's A Beautiful Day record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Whodini record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bush Tetras,
Inner City,
A Certain Ratio,
Pantytec,
Clear Light,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Juan Atkins,
Avey Tare,
David Axelrod,
ABBA,
Big Daddy Kane,
DJ Style,
OOIOO,
Eddi Front,
Absolute Body Control,
The Moody Blues,
The Cure,
World's Most,
Flamin' Groovies,
Brothers Johnson,
Bluetip,
The Gun Club,
Scrapy,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Modern Lovers,
Hot Snakes,
Ossler,
Technova,
The Blues Magoos,
Popol Vuh,
Gil Scott Heron,
Fat Boys,
These Immortal Souls,
Animal Collective,
Warsaw,
The Toasters,
X-101,
Alice Coltrane,
Sparks,
Can,
The Wake,
The Remains,
The Victims,
Matthew Halsall,
Crispy Ambulance,
LL Cool J,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The J.B.'s,
Pulsallama,
Skaos,
Audionom,
Mark Hollis,
Public Enemy,
B.T. Express,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Moss Icon,
Mo-Dettes,
Stetsasonic,
Shuggie Otis,
Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.